


Accept Call

by notearchiver



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/F, Gen, Homophobia, POV Outsider, Unintentional Outing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notearchiver/pseuds/notearchiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many reasons to accept a coaching job. Darren Cahill discovers a new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accept Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakingwosound (sev313)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sev313/gifts).



> Speakingwosound, I hope you enjoy this fic. Matching on Tennis RPF and seeing your "Any" request with so many different ideas made my brain smile. All the best.
> 
> (I have included some factual/research notes in the End Notes section.)

**May 18, 2015**

Smoothing his sports jacket on its hanger, Darren closed the hotel wardrobe. He was removing his trousers when his phone rang, and he scrambled to grab it from the bedside table, yanking the charger out of the wall in the process.

"Cahill," he answered without checking the caller-ID, one hand still working on the trousers' zipper.

"Hey, Darren, it's Gary from Player Development. Sorry to call you so early."

Darren glanced at the clock – almost three in the morning. "It's no problem at all. I just returned to the hotel from wrapping up the Rome broadcasting, actually. What's going on?" He finished with the zipper and stepped out of the trousers.

The Rome broadcast and wrap up hadn't taken too much time; it was more his jaunt to a bar with Mary and Patrick that kept him out late. Darren hadn't figured on receiving a call from Adidas Player Development, though. The last time he had spoken with them on the phone resulted in him turning down an offer to coach Tamira Paszek. Since then, any communication was via e-mail. Getting a call at this time of the day was not promising. 

"Are you amenable to taking on a player right now?"

Darren paused in the middle of picking up his trousers from the floor. Of course it would be another request. Who would they try throwing at him this time? Rumors were that Fabio was on the blink with Jose Perlas again.

"I don't know, Gary; the French Open is right upon us. Is it really the best time to start a partnership?" Darren hedged.

"It'd be an easy project – just four months – and it won't interfere with your ESPN contract. It's more for looks than anything," Gary said, stressing the last sentence as if it that would make Darren agree to the contract.

It didn't.

"I don't think—"

"It's Simona Halep."

"She's not looking for a coach," said Darren, relieved that he had a reason to say 'no'. He tossed his trousers onto the bed. "Especially not an Australian one foisted on her by her sponsor." If there was one constant on the WTA Tour besides Serena being Serena, it was Simona's roulette wheel of Romanian coaches (the less said about the Wim Fissette experiment the better).

"Darren, I'm asking you to give it a try. Her manager is on board with it."

Sighing, Darren wandered to the desk, sat in the standard hotel chair, and booted up his laptop. The fact that he was even considering taking on Simona was representative of the bad judgement that appeared after too many hours without sleep. And yet there was something alluring about the idea of working with Simona.

"Who's her manager?"

"Ruzici – Virginia Ruzici."

Darren clamped his phone between his shoulder and ear and pulled up Youtube. It only took a few seconds to find the tape of Simona's loss to Suárez Navarro. 6-2, 3-6, 5-7. He clicked _play_.

"Tell Ruzici I'm expecting her call later this morning."

\-----

Two matches and six pages of notes later, Darren received a call from Virginia Ruzici. It was crisp, short, all business, and it ended with Darren receiving Simona's number.

"And she'll be awake by now?" Darren asked, twirling the hotel pen between his fingers.

"Oh yes. Nearly eight-thirty? She should be getting ready for her morning workout session."

The Halep-Sharapova match continued to play in the background. Darren only realized after the call ended that he had forgotten to press mute.

\-----

The phone rang once, twice, three times, then, "You've reached Simona Halep," said someone that was definitely not Simona. In fact, Darren thought, it sounded like… "This is Maria Sharapova, her personal answering machine. Simona is too much of a fat ass to get out of bed so she sent—"

Darren had to pull the phone away from his ear at the shriek of "Maria!" followed by a series of miscellaneous grunts and giggles, and he stared at the screen. That was not something he had expected – not at eight-thirty in the morning – not ever, honestly – and he hit the _end call_ button, resolutely ignoring the twinge telling him he should have stayed on the line until one of the women returned to the phone. He wasn't ready for this conversation.

Instead, he set the phone down by his laptop and rested his head in his hands, letting the whirr of the air-conditioning unit calm the whirr in his mind.

Those were the sounds of a morning after winning a title, Darren knew. He remembered the ecstasy of waking up in bed with someone, anyone, the morning after a hard match knowing that just for that day he was the most important person on the Tour. He remembered the thrill and joy of another round of sex knowing that for once he could 'sleep in' without his coach berating him for fucking up his practice schedule.

Yes, those were definitely the sounds of a successful morning after. And, well, Maria _had_ just won Rome. Had Simona even flown out after her semifinal loss? Fuck, he didn't know; that wasn't his job.

Or at least it hadn't been his job. Now it was as surely as he had accepted Virginia's call. Which damn the woman for not telling him what he was getting into.

It was time to make another call.

\-----

Virginia picked up on the first ring.

"Darren, hello. I didn't expect a call from you so soon. Is something the matter?"

Virginia was professional, her voice steady and clear across the line, but Darren could hear the unasked question: _Did Simona say something unbearably rude?_ Which, he admitted, wouldn't be that out of character. The rumors of what had happened between Simona and Fissette had filtered through the coaching circles – accusations of low expectations and a poor mentality flung by Simona; frustration at perceived insolence and superiority voiced by Fissette. He had seen the post-split interview, the purse of Simona's lips as she declared herself a product of Romania, the implication that Fissette couldn't understand competitive drive and what it meant to represent a country, not just compete under its flag. So yes, it was reasonable for Virginia to be worried.

"No, I don't think so," Darren answered. "I was just wondering if you gave me the correct number. I tried calling Simona and Maria – Sharapova, that is – picked up."

"Ah." At the distinct pause, Darren closed his eyes. There was a headache coming, he knew. "No, that was definitely Simona's number," Virginia said.

Opening his eyes, Darren focused on the screen in front of him, the muted video showing a replay of Simona double faulting. "I see," he said steadily. Complications. "Should I expect Maria to answer Simona's phone often?" This time it was he who paused, mind stumbling as he tried to decide how diplomatic he should be. Finally he settled on, "That is, is it normal for Maria to answer the phone from Simona's bed?"

Virginia's voice was harsh, cold and clipped when she responded. "No, no it is not common at all. I was unaware that Simona and Sharapova were…close. I will have to speak to her about the value of discretion and making proper life choices." A pause, as if Virginia was collecting herself. "I do hope this won't be a problem."

Darren remembered the article that dropped three years before he joined the Tour; the headlines about Martina's relationships and the tabloid speculations about how many of the female players she had fucked. He remembered the first mixed doubles match he had played against her; how he had been thrashed and how when he was leaving through the players' exit he saw Martina leaning against a woman, their hands clasped.

He remembered the arguments he had heard between Martina and her coach, her manager.

Martina talked about her former support staff infrequently, and only when tipsy, but when she did Darren found himself remembering those women by her side after matches, those lovers, and hoping they gave her the support she needed.

He swallowed. "No, it won't be a problem."

"Good. Well, I'm sure we'll talk soon. I'll fax you the paperwork in a few hours."

A slight crackle, and Virginia hung up. Darren found himself extremely glad she did so.

Pulling up his contact list again, Darren hovered his thumb over the name third from the top of his favorites list. In his peripheral vision, the Simona on the screen dumped a ball into the net.

If he was going to do this, he would do it correctly.

Tapping the smiling visage of Martina Navratilova, he brought the phone to his ear. Perhaps it was just him, but the dial tone sounded very appreciative.

**Author's Note:**

> **Factual/Research Notes:**
> 
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>  _Dates of events mentioned in this fic:_  
>  January 22, 2014 -- Simona hires Wim Fissette as her coach.  
> November 7, 2014 -- Simona and Fissette's coaching relationship ends.  
> May 16, 2015 -- Simona loses in the seminfinals of the Internazionali BNL d'Italia (Rome) to Suárez Navarro.  
> May 17, 2015 -- Maria Sharapova wins Rome, beating Suárez Navarro.  
> ~May 17/18, 2015 -- Simona announces she will be working with Darren Cahill under an agreement with the Adidas Player Development Program.
> 
>  _Simona Halep's press release concerning her separation with Wim Fissette:_  
>  "About my next coach…first of all, I want to clarify a thing. I consider myself 100% a product of the Romanian tennis because until February this year I was coached only by Romanians. Definitely my next coach will be Romanian. I want to work again with a Romanian, I feel well and he have similar mentality. From what I've realized this year, coaches from abroad have different mentality and I like to have next to me a person who thinks almost like me. For me, it is important at a coach to be a good pedagogue, to understand my way of being. I'm pretty picky as a player and for a coach it's difficult sometimes. This year we didn't talk much before matches, I wanted to be alone, I don't know if it's good or bad, but I had results."
> 
> \---
> 
> Comment moderation has been turned on due to persistent trolling within the Tennis RPF fandom. I apologize for any inconvenience.


End file.
